


A Rebel through the Eyes of the Imperial

by for_darkness_shows_the_stars



Series: Potentiam Tuam Sanguinem [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: BAMF Leia Organa, Gen, Introspection, Leia is terrifying, Skywalkers are eldritch horrors I'm sorry I don't make the rules
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:47:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23970304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/for_darkness_shows_the_stars/pseuds/for_darkness_shows_the_stars
Summary: An Imperial officer is captured by the Rebellion. She only realizes the seriousness of her situation when faced with Princess Organa.
Series: Potentiam Tuam Sanguinem [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1711054
Comments: 7
Kudos: 93





	A Rebel through the Eyes of the Imperial

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy!!!

**A Rebel through the Eyes of the Imperial**

_Better for an Imperial to be captured by the Rebellion, than for a Rebel to be captured by the Empire._

It is a truth, so to speak, universally acknowledged, among both Imperials and Rebels.

Before, Poole has always scoffed at the sentiment. Whoever had spread that foolish parole had clearly had little to no experience with the actual Rebels. They weren’t like the Empire, united under one single banner, one strong, unyielding leader. The Alliance to restore the Republic had been just that—an alliance, a coalition of loosely-knit groups, brought together by a common goal. There were as many of them as there were stars in the sky.

Saw Gerrera's Partisans? Tough luck for the captive, those bastards were willing to do things that would make even an Imperial interrogator sick.

But they were wiped out at Jedha.

The Dreamers? Equally appalling, but they were defeated by some top-secret squad not too long ago.

But after the Battle of Yavin, the idiotic line became very, very true: most smaller cells and groups have combined together.

They are Mothma's lot, the “true” Alliance. Those spineless slugs are too captivated by their foolish ideals of freedom and moral high ground to actually realize they are _at war_.

That is why they are doubtlessly going to lose it, Poole is certain.

Still, it isn’t easy to hold onto those sentiments when she is kneeling in the mud, hands bound behind her, the tip of a blaster rifle pointed at the back of her head.

The Rebels are talking about something in hushed voices—Poole hears glimpses of their conversation— _she_ and _deal with_ and _our princess_.

She doesn’t know what any of it means, but then again, it’s not like it matters. Even captured, she has better things to do than listen to the traitors’ drivel.

Then, _something_ changes, and the Rebels around her snap stiff army salutes. And … there is a change in the air, like an electric charge. It prickles at her skin, leaving goose bumps in its wake, making her shiver even in the humid climate of this tropical world.

“Ma’am,” one of the Rebels says, and Poole raises her eyes to the cause of the disturbance.

She sees only a slight human woman, dressed in a practical white jumpsuit, twin blasters hanging from her belt. The woman’s hair is a glossy brown, plaited into a complex braided crown. A pair of intelligent, dark eyes sits upon her porcelain-white face, the faintest trace of delicate pink blush colouring her cheeks.

With the falling sun behind her back, she seems … unreal, ethereal, a wrathful goddess. For a moment, Poole feels like she can’t breathe.

The woman narrows her piercing eyes, and Poole can’t shake the feeling that they see more than what they should.

There is rage in them. Burning, all-consuming wrath, fuelled by a pain too terrible to name, kept on a short leash.

“A prisoner?” she asks, curving a perfect brow. Her accent is posh—Core, no doubt.

“That’s right, Your Highness,” one of the Rebels says, and Poole’s mind whirls. _Highness?_

Oh. _Oh._

She looks back up at the woman, a child, really, whose hair is elaborately braided into a _crown_ of all things, dressed in Alderaani white …

Yes, Poole decides, the wrath and hatred in her eyes are quite reasonable.

Leia Organa stands above her, face tight, and Poole just can’t explain what she feels beholding her—it goes above and beyond what she can see with her eyes.

The Princess is tiny, but she _feels_ huge, like there is a hulking, raging dragon beneath her smooth skin, fighting _, clawing_ its was out. Like the beautiful face and the delicate body are just a _mask_.

She has felt that before—once.

But the effect wasn’t so jarring with _him._

Maybe it’s because that’s something she’d come to expect of someone of his reputation, maybe because he looks the part. After all, where Vader stands at two metres tall, clothed all in black, the Princess is a mere child, dressed in pure white.

And Poole realizes something in that moment, looking at this girl who has lost more than Poole can even wrap her mind around, who looks at her with a monster’s eyes.

Whoever came up with that foolish parole was right—but not for the reasons they thought they were. Because the Rebellion _could_.

They just chose not to.

_~~(Leia was terrified of becoming like him, but she needn’t have feared. She had Luke, and Han, and Evaan, and so many others. And where he stumbled alone in the darkness, she rose with them in the light.)~~ _

**Author's Note:**

> The Dreamers, in case anyone wasn't aware, were a group of extremist freedom fighters founded after Saw Gerrera's death. They were destroyed a few months ABY, by the Inferno Squad, as shown in the Battlefront II book.


End file.
